


nothing for it

by orphan_account



Series: hswc 2013 fills [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anxiety Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of short dirk/jake fills i've done for homestuck shipping world cup 2013</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You're upset that I actually did help. You're afraid that if I keep on showing up and helping, you'll like it. And liking it will lead to relying on it and by relying on it, you'll be less of the you you've made yourself into. That kickass you that you like and I like too. But you're afraid that if you learn to rely on me, one day when you really need me to show up, I won't. And then you'll be angry at yourself for believing in something you've only seen in the movies, something that I'm determined to prove to you actually exists." -Shameless US_

Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, the nightstand alarm clock blinks to 2:47. It's a little low for his usual sleeping pulse rate. Depends on the stage, though. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he's abnormally cool for some reason. Why aren't you already keeping a record of his typical nighttime temperature? You can start now.

You're halfway out of the bed, you can check for REM when you get back shitting fuck what are you _doing_. You make yourself lay back down.

Match your breathing to his. Try not to time it. Try to get back to sleep. Fail both.

* * *

Dirk's awake when you get back to your room, plate of orange danishes in hand. You beam at him. "Morning, sunshine!"

He flinches. Oops. Maybe that was too loud?

You hop up beside him - carefully! - and wait until he sits all the way up to place the plate in his lap. Carefully. It's not often you wake up before Dirk and by extension not often you get to surprise him with something in the morning. So what kind of boyfriend would you be if you messed up now?

"Thanks, man." He smiles a little and you give him a huge grin in return. You pick up a danish and lift it to his mouth because you're pretty sure that's considered romantic, but he grabs it from you before taking a bite. Spoilsport. Flirtatious endeavors thoroughly quashed, you lay down beside him. You wipe some icing off the plate with your finger and pop it in your mouth. Friggin' incredible. Maybe he'll leave one for you? You already ate but you could definitely put away a few more.

He eats slowly, which you think is weird because he loves orange danishes. All manner of orange-flavored treats really. Is he still sleepy? Is he always like this in the morning, before you get up? You wonder.

You shouldn't just wonder, you remind yourself. You should ask.

"Everything alright there Dirk?"

His face turns that special kind of emotionless that means he's trying really hard to look like he doesn't care about something. It's too fake to be at all convincing. You've considered alerting him to this flaw in his defenses, since it doesn't seem right to take advantage of such a thing without him even knowing, but it's not worth all the trouble he'd cause trying to fix it. So you keep it to yourself.

"Yeah, why?" He takes a really big bite.

"Did you sleep well?"

You wait patiently as he chews, swallows, sucks icing off his fingers. Finally: "Hm? Yeah. Slept fine. These are really good, Jake." As if you don't know an attempt at distracting you with flattery when you see it!

"It's almost noon," you point out. "You never sleep this late."

"Well, I did today," he says a little testily.

You want to keep asking him about it, but he's entitled to secrets and bad moods and stubbornness same as you are. "Okay, just checking," you say, making sure to sound chipper. You lay your head on his shoulder to watch him eat. He tears the last danish in half, getting icing all over his hands, and gives one half to you.

* * *

Jake knows something's up. The thought bounces around in your skull, too quick to pin down and think about properly. He's gonna keep going until he finds out what the problem is, and when that happens he's gonna wanna help, and you can't fall into that trap. Too many snakes at the bottom. All different kinds. The herpetological biodiversity of the pitfall you'd be in, confined as it is to the limbless and wriggly faction of its potential breadth, is nonetheless off the fuckin' charts.

You try sneaking off to a different room after Jake falls asleep, but it only strings your nerves tighter. You're surprised they haven't snapped yet, show's over, guitarist didn't bring any spares. What a fuckup. The couch is gravel. You pace until you get sick of it and tell yourself you need to sleep, an excuse for creeping back to bed.

* * *

You're laying on the couch, watching old cartoons and eating popcorn for breakfast-dessert, when a movement over by the hallway catches your eye. You look over to find Dirk staring at you. He's gone before you even open your mouth to greet him. You debate going after him, but what good would it do if he's running off like that? Besides, how often do you catch any channel showing Johnny Quest? Not damn near often enough. So you try and put him out of your mind, and it's not long before the shower running is just background noise.

Later he picks the popcorn bowl up off your stomach, interrupting your spell of that wondrous state known as midday snoozing. He hops over you and settles on the back of the couch, bare feet where the bowl had been. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look up to Dirk's carefully sculpted hair and flushed face.

"Hey," he says, and dumps the popcorn on your head.

You sputter and sit up to sweep the mess off. When you glare at him he smirks, so you grab some popcorn and toss it at his smug douchebag face. He's clean and therefore getting butter and salt on him is extra appealing.

"Well!" you scoff, trying not to grin. "Good morning to you too. Let's see if I ever wake you up nicely again."

He flicks your forehead. "It's almost five."

You shrug, scoop up some popcorn, and shove it in your mouth. "Good evening, then?" you ask through a mouthful of chewed corn bits.

"Dude. Gross." He smiles like he does when he's trying to not smile, but although there's a bit of weirdness to be assumed with such an expression it still manages to look wrong. And did he really just get out of the shower? That bothers you, though you couldn't say why. Is your infuriatingly vague know-it-all subconscious up to its old tricks, picking up on things without telling you about them? Maybe you're just imagining it. You should ask. He hates having you fuss over him about anything, but- if there's a problem you should at least know about it right?

You tap his ankle and he looks down at you. Cripes you should have thought of what you were going to say before you got his attention. No time for that now though, so you swallow the popcorn and speak.

"You trust me don't you Dirk?"

Oh fuckbuckets you really should have thought of what you were going to say.

You see his eyebrows raise just a little before settling again. "Of course," he says, too casually.

And now you're in a right pickle, aren't you, because not telling you everything doesn't mean he doesn't trust you. But. He doesn't. You can tell even if you can't tell how you can tell.

"So." You clear your throat. "If there's some sort of issue you're having you are aware that my assistance is at your disposal yes? And all you have to do is ask."

"Not havin' an issue. Thanks though." He sounds almost bored. The whole robot act is really starting to grind your gears now, but you push the feeling down. You're trying to help, so you should be nice and helpful.

"Alrighty then," you say with a smile you hope doesn't look fake. "Dinner?"

* * *

You take apart your sound system just to have something to channel all this restless energy into. You should see if you can upgrade it again. You should knock back some sleeping pills so you get up at a normal hour tomorrow (today?). Just once, just enough to throw Jake off your trail. He'll never let it go otherwise. He'd whittle you down until you blew up at him or told him what was wrong or something else ridiculously stupid.

But if he'd just _stay the fuck out of this_ , you could fix it on your own, and you wouldn't have to worry about him being sad he can't help you, or getting sick of helping you. Or just helping you in general. Band-aid for the gunshot wound. Pain meds that don't really treat fuck-all. Shit's outrageously addictive, keeps you nice and stoned right up until you die.

You stare at your screwdriver until you pass out.

* * *

You find Dirk asleep on his workshop floor, along with a bunch of scattered electronics parts.

"I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong," you inform him after you've shaken him awake and dragged him into the kitchen. ( _No_ , he'd mumbled when you tried to bring him to bed, _coffee._ ) Like the problem is he's just forgotten that and upon being reminded he'll give you the scoop on what's been eating him. You wait for him to say he doesn't need help, he can handle it, quit worrying, he doesn't want your pity, you think some days he doesn't even want your love if it means you _care_ about him-

"It's not something you can help," he says quietly.

Well. That's new. You must tread carefully now, lest you lose this little victory. You think for a minute before replying, "You don't know that for sure. Not if you don't even let me try."

"Jake," he starts, and you bristle in anticipation.

"You _don't!_ "

You know you shouldn't be belligerent if you can help it but you HATE his lectures, and he usually has you agreeing with him by the end of them so do you have a choice? You continue quieter all the same: "What's the harm in telling me at least?"

"You'll just worry. It's something I need to get over on my own anyways. Okay?"

You snort. "You think you need to do every little dadblasted thing on your own." He had refused to sit down, and he's been standing without even leaning on the counter ever since you brought him here. This is _at least_ his fourth mug of coffee.

Dirk sighs like you're the one testing his patience. "I know I can be sort of..." He shakes his head. "Look, Jake, believe me. This is something I need to do myself. You'd agree."

"Prove it."

The two of you glare at each other for a few moments. You're not going to throw in the towel. You can't. You take a deep breath and try and look brave. You look at his hands since sometimes they fidget when he's nervous, but they're still now.

"You know I get," he starts after a minute, "moods, I guess?" Dirk shrugs, perfect nonchalant coolkid. You wait for elaboration. "Like I said, my problem. I can deal with it."

"And?" you prod before you can stop yourself.

"And what?"

"What kind of moods?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. "Bad ones."

Jesus tap-dancing Christ can he be a handful sometimes. Several handfuls. A handful of handfuls, and probably a few more iterations after that. "Yes but _what kind_ of bad ones?" you press.

"Jesus, Jake, do you want a full psych report?" he snaps. "A list of every single one of my various hangups and neuroses in explicit detail? You feel shitty sometimes too, and I always leave you alone until you get over it. So why can't you do the same for me?"

He's got you there. How many times have you spent hours watching movies and reading comics by yourself until you felt like dealing with people again? But on the other hand...

"...Alright. That's fair. But are you sure you want me to leave you alone because I can't help, or is it that you just don't want my help?" You resist the urge to look smug.

He's quiet for a few moments while he finishes his coffee, and he sure as shooting takes his time doing it, but eventually he sets the mug down. "If I say 'both', can we stop talking about this?"

There's a note in his voice that softens your frustration. You exhale heavily, suddenly tired. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be okay."

"Yeah, I know. It's fine. I really do appreciate it," he adds after a moment, "but it'll pass. Always does."

"If you say so." You move towards him and he doesn't move back, so you pull him into a hug. He returns it instantly. You catch a tiny sigh coming from him and it placates you a little. At least you can offer some comfort, if he won't let you do anything else. "And you know if you change your mind I'm here for you right bro?" you say into his hair.

It feels like forever but he finally says "Yeah."

* * *

You don't know how long you sit with your hand hovering over his shoulder, weighing the risks. It's ok. He said it was ok, not specifically but he's woken you in the middle of the night before. But those times were all for legit reasons, not something like you not being able to handle shit on your own.

Something about him changes and you're shaking him awake before you even realize what it is. He rolls away from your hand and swats at it, grumbling. Shit, how are you going to explain this? You aren't, you're going to lay back down and hope he chalks it up to a dream.

Jake's looking up at you. "Mmmh?"

Ok, cool. He's alive. You settle down beside him and close your eyes like you had nothing to do with the whole fiasco. But he's getting up and it's him looming over you now.

"Strider?"

"Yeah."

"What're you doing up?"

He's not gonna buy that you weren't up, or that it's nothing, and he probably won't go back to sleep for a while, if at all. So you might as well indulge him, right?

"...Can't sleep," you respond after a minute.

He settles beside you wordlessly and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, resting his head on your cheek. You can feel his mouth moving when he speaks. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No. Sorry for waking you up."

"Quite alright. Like I said I'm here if you need me."

You want to clarify that you don't _need_ him, but with the paranoia-induced adrenaline fading you're suddenly too tired to really give a fuck. You want him, in any case. He lazily traces his fingers across your skin, and it feels nice. This is so much better than your recent nightly activities.

"Does this help?" He yawns.

You yawn back. You like that little quirk of humans, that you all have a sleepy secret handshake. An RSVP, sure, I'll chill out with you. "Mmm. Thanks."

"Any time," he slurs into your neck, already falling asleep again. Lucky bastard.

But you follow him pretty soon, and in the morning you wake in time to cook him breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after going through this again i think it might come off as presenting romance as a solution to mental issues, which is not something i believe in at all! that's very unhealthy. i meant this more like the relationship being a comfort or source of support, or temporary relief for a single incident, hopefully being the start of dirk's willingness to accept help, which is something he has trouble with. that's why i picked this quote to fill :p


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Did you say "please just follow me"?_  
>  _I thought you wanted me_  
>  _Cause I want you all to myself_  
>  _I can try to suck it up_  
>  _I just can't suck it up_  
>  _Make me feel like someone else_  
>  \- ["All to Myself", Marianas Trench](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDmAP7HreHo)
> 
>  _It's you, it's you, it's all for you_  
>  _Everything I do_  
>  _I tell you all the time_  
>  \- ["Video Games" The Young Professionals](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwYtheMGdPQ) (originally [Lana Del Rey](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuA-GKdUN5c))
> 
>  _Plunge your hand, rip out my spine_  
>  _Replace it with a UV light_  
>  _So I can be the beacon of hope that you'd always expected_  
>  \- ["Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Break Beats", Los Campesinos!](http://youtu.be/NLt6bz8pE0E)

There are certain sacrifices to be made when one aspires to be a daring man of action. You can't spend too much time mulling over your choices when they present themselves. You pick one and go with it. But the lightning reflexes and quick thinking skills you've developed over the years have saved your life on more than one occasion, so you find it hard to dwell on those rare instances when your snap decision backfires. It works for Lara Croft, it'll work for you.

You don't think Lara Croft ever made the mistake of kissing her ex when she just came over to talk. But you're pretty sure James Bond has, which must count for something.

Dirk spends a few moments not doing much of anything, which you are just starting to worry about when he shoves you back.

"The _fuck_ , Jake?"

He isn't leaning on his doorframe anymore. Part of you is glad; it was such a casual thing, like he was bored already, like he didn't really care that the two of you were having an actual conversation for the first time in ages and would in fact prefer it if you hurried up and left, even though you quite literally just got there.

"What the hell was that?"

He's shorter than you by almost exactly an inch (maybe not anymore, it's not like you've had the opportunity to find out) but when he stands up straight he seems bigger somehow. It's a little intimidating and right now a lot like a tiny victory, though you couldn't say why.

Dirk is still glaring at you. Right! He asked a question. Your fears of the past few weeks worm their way back into your mind, but you push them out again. This has to work, so it will.

"A kiss?" you say slowly. His expression doesn't change; he is no doubt awaiting further explanation. You steady yourself before continuing. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, you see, and it's occurred to me that I might have been a little hasty in-"

" _No_." He says it so fiercely it surprises you. You think it surprises him too; his voice is much quieter when he speaks again. "You don't even like me, Jake."

Of course you do! Why else would you miss him so much, and be so angry over this, and catch yourself admiring his arms whenever you see him in a tank top? Surely you wouldn't have kissed him just now if you didn't like him. But you hesitate too long, and his mouth tightens.

You are losing your chance. You can't mess this up. You have to find some way to make things right with him, and then he can stop avoiding you and you can have your friend back.

"I _could!_ " you say a little too loudly, "I just need- look, I know where I screwed up, I can do better-"

"Jake."

"What? You still like me, don't you?" Your voice is increasingly higher-pitched and there's a familiar pain in your throat. You blink quickly and hope he doesn't notice. It takes a few seconds but you get yourself under control, and he still hasn't answered. You can't say for sure under his shades but you don't think he's looking at you either, and that almost undoes all your hard work of not crying.

His head tilts a little bit back towards you a little too quickly to not notice, so he WAS looking away, and he says: "No."

"Then what do you want me to do?" tumbles out of you before you can think. At least your voice didn't break. You use the time he spends not answering to try and calm yourself down again. It feels like a lot of time, and you can see him thinking his words over meticulously. You probably won't like to hear them but you are prepared to follow through nonetheless. It was you who ruined your relationship, so badly he had to dump you first, and so it's you who has to fix it.

When he speaks, it's very carefully. "What makes you think I want you to do something?" 

"Because you _have_ to!" You might be yelling a little, but you don't care. "We were supposed to be best bros for life and now you- and now-"

You choke for a moment before taking a stuttered breath. So much for not crying in front of Dirk. You can't even call more words up past the lump in your throat. But you're not sure you'd know what to say, anyways, even though you went over and over it before you came here. Your head is such a mess. You watch Dirk through watery eyes, and he looks at something vaguely in front of him, unreadable as ever.

"Ok," he finally says, and backs up out of the doorway. "Come on." When you keep still, he grabs the end of your sleeve and tugs. "Hey. You still wanna talk?"

You've been wanting to talk for weeks. You nod.

"C'mere then." He turns and walks back into his room. You follow close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't actually think jake was at fault for their relationship problems. it was pretty much 110% dirk strider bullshit. but jake, sadly, doesn't realize that yet.


	3. head club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I can't say I blame you  
>  But I wish that I could  
> I'm sick of writing every song about you_  
> \- ["Head Club", Taking Back Sunday](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMDWPDydW0M)

It's over.

You're done. He's gone. It's over.

Something snaps like your fishing line when you hook a sea monster by accident. Tension and strain and god knows how many pounds of angry water beast fighting you for every inch, and then it's gone and you stumble back. All of your muscles would hurt the next morning, but now you only feel breathless and light. Your quarry still thrashes in the water, but you're not there to feel it.

He's not coming back.

You swallow a sob, a groan, you don't know and it doesn't matter because it's not happening. You can do this. It always fades. You take one deep breath and then another.

He's never-

You just need to get used to it, and if he doesn't hate you now then you could still be friends. It feels weird to think of him that way, but all of a sudden you don't want anything else. Friends. Okay. It's better like this anyways. You never wanted to like him, and now- now you won't. Things would be so much easier. Maybe you'd be able to really relax around him for the first time in three years. Maybe you could even go a day without thinking about him, or at least not thinking too hard. You're sick of him, in fact, the way you get sick of yourself when you've been sitting at your desk for hours perfecting old plans you've already perfected instead of taking a shower and laying down and at least pretending to sleep.

AR (AR-troll-sprite, what would be his name now?) looks up at the sky and grins even wider. You follow his gaze. Three spots of bright color far off in the sky. Sprites? People? Maybe you could use some company now, whatever the hell it was. You stand up straighter as they float towards you, and you feel weightless.

Until they get close enough to recognize.

**Author's Note:**

> after going through this again i think it might come off as presenting romance as a solution to mental issues, which is not something i believe in at all! that's very unhealthy. i meant this more like the relationship being a comfort or source of support, or temporary relief for a single incident, hopefully being the start of dirk's willingness to accept help, which is something he has trouble with. that's why i picked this quote to fill :p


End file.
